


I Won't Say I'm in Love

by the-captains-ayebrows (EscapistFiction317704)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 08:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5998366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EscapistFiction317704/pseuds/the-captains-ayebrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My CSSV 2K16 present to msgenevieve447, based on the following prompt:  “I guess I’m just not a fan of any holiday that someone feels that they’re obligated to tell me that they love me.“</p>
<p>Just some Valentine's Day fluff, set in canon universe vaguely post-Underworld. Emma and Killian live together in the former Dark Swan's old Victorian house. Title is from the song of the same name from Disney's Hercules.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Won't Say I'm in Love

**Author's Note:**

> This story itself is smut-free, but for funsies I infused it with some commonly used "smut words". Call it a Smutty Word Search, if you will.  
> **Readers - if any of the following are “yuck” words for you, just know that NONE of them are used in an actual smut context**
> 
> Smutty Word Search terms: snatch, pussy, cock, breast, orgasmic, thigh, hard, sheath, heat, bliss, grind, tongue, fuck, oral, come [There are probably more that I didn’t even realize I used]
> 
> That said, please read along and play along, and here’s hoping you enjoy! Happy Valentine’s Day!

“I haven’t told him about it.” Emma reached over from her perch on a barstool to snatch a foil wrapped chocolate heart from the cut glass bowl on Snow’s counter top and braced herself for the impending argument.

“Why not? Emma, that pirate of yours has an old romantic soul and a flare for the dramatic. Valentine’s Day has his name written all over it,” her mother commented. 

Emma scowled, picking at the red and silver wrapper before shoving the chocolate in her mouth. She could hardly contradict that point, so she tried another tack. “I guess I’m just not a fan of any holiday that someone feels that they’re  _ obligated _ to tell me that they love me,” she mumbled through her mouthful. 

From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of David making his way into the kitchen, and decided to bring him into this mess, too. Distract, divide, conquer, right? “Besides, I’m surprised  _ you’re _ into the whole Valentine’s Day thing after that year that David bought cards for both you  _ and  _ Katherine.”

David stopped short, his jacket still dangling from his hand halfway to the chair back where he’d intended to drape it . “Whoa. I was cursed, okay? We all did things under the curse that we regret.” His eyes cut to his wife, who cleared her throat lightly, pointedly directing her attention to the chicken breast she was slicing, and Emma was certain she heard David mumble the word ‘Whale’ under his breath.

Snow threw a warning glare at David, brandishing her knife with a hint of menace. “I thought we agreed never to discuss that again,  _ dear. _ ” 

“Hey, I’m not the one who…” and with that, they were off. Snow White and Prince Charming may very well be the epitome of true love, but they could bicker with the best of them. 

Her parents’ attention being thusly diverted ( _ score one for Emma!), _ she smirked to herself and grabbed another chocolate from the bowl, savoring the velvety sweetness of victory as it melted on her tongue. But, it would seem her success was short-lived.

“Now wait a minute,” Snow paused, mid-rant. “This whole thing started because I asked Emma about her plans for Valentine’s Day.” In almost comical synchronicity, her parents’ heads turned toward her with identical expressions of exasperation on their faces.

“And I told you I’m not making any,” Emma declared with finality. “It’s a stupid holiday that only exists to sell greeting cards and candy and make lonely people feel even more alone, and if Killian finds out that it exists he’s going to-”

“If Killian finds out about what?” 

_ Well, fuck.  _ Emma’s gaze snapped quickly toward the doorway just in time to see the leather-clad man standing in it cock his head to the side in confusion, his dark brows furrowed. She attempted to feign nonchalance with a high-pitched “Oh, nothing,” but failed miserably.

A slow smile spread across his face as he stalked toward her, clearly readying himself for a challenge. “Come now, love. No sense in pussy-footing around. Out with it.”  He wrapped one arm around Emma’s waist and nuzzled into her neck. “Or will I have to extract the information from you the hard way?” he whispered almost hopefully into her ear.

The warmth of his breath and scratch of his scruff against her neck had Emma melting, forgetting for the moment that she was in the middle of her parent’s kitchen having a very uncomfortable discussion about a holiday she hated. David’s overly-aggressive throat clearing quickly burst that bubble.

“We talked about this,  _ mate. _ No mauling my daughter right in front of me.”

Killian straightened his posture with a courtly bob of his head in deference to David. “Sorry mate,” he replied, turning back to Emma with a wicked grin. “Sometimes I simply cannot help myself.”

“Now see? This is exactly what I was talking about,” Snow called over her shoulder as she sautéed at the stove. “He’s a romantic! Emma, you have to tell him.”

“Tell me what, love?” Killian fixed Emma with an expectant gaze complete with his signature raised eyebrow, and she sighed in defeat.

“Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. It’s a holiday in this realm. And one that I have no intention of celebrating,” she said, casting a defiant glare around the room at large.

At Killian’s befuddled expression and Emma’s clear refusal to elaborate, David intervened. “It’s a holiday to celebrate love. People send cards, go to fancy candlelit dinners, buy over-priced chocolate and flowers, that kind of thing.”

“Or,” Snow interjected. “They could actually put some effort in and maybe make their loved one breakfast in bed, write them a love letter, or spend the whole day together. You know, do everything you can to show the other person that you love them?”

“And that’s exactly the problem. It’s too much. Too forced. I don’t want anybody doing those things for me because some idiotic tradition told them they have to,” Emma finished, slightly embarrassed by the plaintive note that had crept into her voice.

Killian took a step back, eyes narrowed at her in contemplation. “Right. I must say I believe love is a wonderful thing to celebrate. It seems like quite a noble holiday in fact, but far be it from me to go against my darling’s wishes on a day of love. To be clear, you wish to have no cards, no bouquets of flowers, no candlelit meals or breakfasts in bed, no chocolate and no forcibly spending the day together. Do I have that list correct?”

“Correct,” Emma nodded warily. “Where are you going with this?”

“Well, love, as you have so definitively decided not to celebrate this day of valentines, whatever those may be, I will abide by your wishes and do none of those things previously listed. I can’t promise to do  _ nothing at all _ , but I will respect your guidelines. In fact, I’ll do you one better,” Killian added, cracking a wry grin and seeming a tad too pleased with himself for Emma’s comfort. “I will not so much as utter the word ‘love’ for the entire day. I’d hate to have you think I’m only saying it under some sense of obligation after all.”

“You,” Emma scoffed. “You who call me ‘love’ literally 50 times a day - three times in the ten minutes you’ve been here, I might add - and have done so since before we even liked each other? You think you can make it an entire day without saying the word?”

“Oh, I’ve always fancied you, lo-” he paused, catching himself. “I mean,  _ lass _ . But to answer your query, yes. I believe I can. Care to make a little wager?”

From the corner of her eye, Emma noticed David awkwardly shuffling his feet. “As much as I have  _ no _ desire to hear the terms you two are about to lay out,” her father said. “Even I’d like a piece of that action. I don’t think you can shut off that switch, Hook.”

“Dave, I am deeply offended by your lack of faith, but no. As your fair daughter is the one who is stifling my natural talents for wooing a lovely maid such as herself, this shall be between Emma and I alone. If I fail, then henceforth, I shall never attempt to make her celebrate this holiday ever again. If I succeed, then next year, I shall be permitted to go to any extravagance I see fit.  Even if that means expressing my love for her in a saccharine, embarrassing or public a manner.” He extended his hand to Emma for her to shake. “Do we have an accord, love?”

Emma couldn’t help her smirk. He hadn’t even made it through the terms of their agreement before letting a ‘love’ slip out again, and on top of that he didn’t even seem to realize it. This would be easy pickings for sure. She took his hand and shook firmly. “Deal.”

* * *

“Rise and shine, darling. We’d best be on our way soon.”

As much as she adored his voice under normal circumstances, at this ungodly hour - and a slight crack of her eyes revealed it was very much still dark in their bedroom so it  _ must _ be an ungodly hour - all Emma wanted was to pull her pillow more firmly over her head to muffle his cheery greeting. 

“Swan?” His hand found her hip in the darkness and gave her a nudge.

“Umf.”

“Come along, Swan. I cannot let you luxuriate in bed this morning. It would go against the spirit of our deal. Besides I have plans for us.” He tucked his hook under the edge of the fluffy down comforter, peeling it away from Emma’s body, and she whimpered at the loss of its warmth.

With a few choice phrases muttered under her breath, Emma removed the pillow from over her face and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. A heavenly scent caught her nostrils and she perked up immediately. “Do I smell coffee?”

“Aye, that you do. Your mother was kind enough to show me how to grind the beans fresh in that tiny little electrical contraption, and Granny assured me that Italian roast was your favorite.”

“Mmmm…” Emma hummed, licking her lips in anticipation, but Killian continued undeterred.

“And if you want a single drop of it, you’ll throw on your warmest clothes and come with me. No breakfast in bed, remember?”

“Hmph,” Emma pouted, but he leaned down to kiss her pursed lips.

“Meet me downstairs in 20 minutes, lass. I’ve a few more preparations to make.” He pressed another kiss to the top of her head and sauntered out of the room. 

Emma rose from the bed and ambled into the bathroom for a quick shower. After brushing her teeth (oral hygiene being of the utmost importance on a day dedicated to kissing) and drying her hair so it fell in soft waves, she felt decidedly more like a member of the human race.  Three layers of clothing, including a decently nice bra and panty set (who knew what that man was up to?), and she was following her nose downstairs to where dark roasted, caffeinated bliss awaited her. 

And a smoldering, piercing-eyed pirate who smiled up at her like she was the moon and stars. That was rather nice as well. He had a tote bag slung over one shoulder and held her heaviest coat in his hand expectantly. She allowed him the gentlemanly gesture of helping her put it on, pulled a beanie down over her blond locks and together they exited their home into the icy cold morning twilight. 

He led her down the short walk to the docks, to where the Jolly Roger was berthed, and she noticed a long, industrial grade extension cord running from the deck to the dock’s power pole. They boarded the Jolly, and Killian pulled a blanket out of the bag, spreading it out across the deck. Next came a small white bakery box and the object of Emma’s greatest interest - particularly now that she was freezing her fingers off - a thermos and two insulated travel mugs.  Killian gestured for her to sit, and she gladly obliged, shaking her head in wonderment at him. This was certainly an interesting take on her “no breakfast in bed” rule.

He ducked below for a minute and emerged with a surge protector strip and a small space heater, which he plugged into the extension cord on the deck. Emma sighed in contentment, scooting closer and extending her nearly numb fingers to absorb the heat coming off the unit. All his preparations completed, Killian sat down beside her and she snuggled into him, unable to hide her smile.

He leaned forward and opened the bakery box. “Bearclaw for milady?” he asked with a smug grin. Emma gladly accepted and soon was moaning in sugary bliss, not missing the way his eyes darkened at the sound. 

He opened the thermos and poured two steaming cups, handing Emma hers just as the sun crested the horizon. Out here on the water beneath a wispy cover of snow clouds, the view was absolutely breathtaking. Emma had never seen anything like it. 

She bumped Killian’s side with her shoulder, and leaned back against him, his hooked arm draping casually around her waist. “You really did think of everything, didn’t you?”

She felt his head bow and soon his lips were against her cheek. “I felt that a proper counterpoint to breakfast in bed would be doughnuts at dawn in the great outdoors.” He nipped playfully at her earlobe before sitting up straight again. “And I’m only getting started, Swan.”

She felt the low rumble of his voice against her back, and a thrill shot through her despite herself.  _ This should definitely be interesting. _

* * *

She had made it to work far earlier than usual, given her uncharacteristically early start to the day, and despite the mountain of paperwork on her desk, she was having a difficult time concentrating. Her mind kept wandering to Killian and attempting to figure out what stunt he would try to pull next. As much as she hated to admit it, she was beginning to think there might be something to this romance business because as much as Killian was intentionally  _ not _ doing any of the stereotypical Valentine’s Day schtick (at least so far), the very gesture of not doing those things was incredibly romantic in and of itself. Once again, he was putting her first, like he always did. Like he always would. Her heart clenched at the thought and she was damn near about to tear up.

And then he walked into the sheriff station carrying a large mesh sack of onions.

“Killian, what the hell?” Emma shook her head and blinked a few times to clear her vision, but no. He was definitely carrying onions. 

He slung the bag easily onto her desk with a muffled thud. “What, these? You forbade me from giving you flowers, but I assumed that did not exclude all forms of plant life, so I nipped down to the farmers market and got you a dozen of these.” 

“You say that as if it’s a perfectly normal thing to do,” Emma replied, brow still furrowed in consternation. Could this possibly be some odd courting ritual from the Enchanted Forest? She made a mental note to ask Snow about it later. “Oooookaaaaayyyy.  What am I supposed to do with them?”

“Ah!” He leaned against the edge of her desk, crowding into her space. “Now you’re asking the right question, lass,” he answered, reaching out with a heavily ringed finger to tap the tip of her nose, which only made her frown deepen. “I was thinking we could take these over to Granny’s and have her whip up a batch of your favorite onion rings. Fresh and made to order.”

A chuckle escaped her before she could lock her poker face back into place. “You’re weird.”

He beamed back at her. “Aye, perhaps. But will you nonetheless accompany me to lunch?”  he asked with a suggestive waggle of his dark brows.

“Alright,” Emma conceded. “But I can’t stay long. I have a crapload of paperwork to do.”

Killian nodded, pulling his lower lip between his teeth, and Emma caught herself biting her own lip in response. He stood and gathered up the onion sack, tucking it under his arm, and extended his other elbow to Emma in invitation. She curled her hand around his bicep (can’t blame a girl for copping a feel when she can, right?), and together they walked to Granny’s.

* * *

After lunch, Killian walked her back to the station door bidding her a fond adieu with a quick, but very promising kiss, and she practically floated back to her desk with the taste of salt and grease and  _ him _ on her lips. 

God, those onion rings. Emma could only suspect that some kind of black magic had gone into the growing of the onions themselves, because she’d never tasted anything close to comparable. If she thought the bearclaws this morning were good, those rings were practically orgasmic. So much so, that she’s fairly sure Killian never actually ate anything, simply watched her enjoyment with a gaze so indecent that it made her insides flip. 

Before sitting down at her desk, she cast a doleful eye at the clock on the wall.  There was no way she could endure four more hours of paperwork before seeing what other surprises this day would hold. Still, as much as she was enjoying today, the pirate hadn’t slipped once and said the L-word. She was very much beginning to worry about losing her bet, and what that could entail in the future. If this is how Killian did an “Un-Valentine’s Day” she shuddered to think what he could come up with if given full rein.

As she plunked down in her chair, she noticed a yellow sticky note placed prominently on her computer screen. 

_ Swan, go home. Your paperwork is being handled. I’ll be picking Henry up after school and we shan’t return to the house until 6:00 pm. Until then, your time is your own. - K _

Emma blinked, thoroughly taken aback. “Seriously?”

She heard movement near her and looked up to see David standing by, arms crossed over his chest, but a smile on his face. “Seriously. You’re off duty, Savior. I’ve got a couple of substitute deputies helping me out for the rest of the day.”

Emma’s pulse sped up at the possibilities. A whole afternoon and house to herself. Peace. Quiet. She could take a bubble bath, read a book, paint her toenails. Take a freaking nap! She sprang from her chair and pulled her father into a hug. “Thank you,  _ thank you! _ ” she mumbled, resting her chin on his shoulder.

David gave her a quick squeeze, cradling the back of her head as if she was still his baby girl, before releasing her. “Yeah, well, thank that pirate of yours. He cooked this up. And then your mother, um,  _ convinced _ me to go along with it. You do deserve a break every once in awhile, you know?”

Emma grinned in response, making a mental note of yet another box that Killian had checked off - no spending the entire day together. She quickly gathered her things before virtually flying out the door. She knew exactly what she wanted to do with her free time: absolutely, indolently, and fabulously  _ nothing _ .

* * *

A woman of her word, even if that word was given to no one but herself, Emma was still passed out cold on the couch when Killian returned with Henry that evening. Roused by the sound of the front door opening and closing, she pulled herself upright.  Henry walked over to where she sat, leaning down to offer her a “Hi, mom,” and a quick peck on the cheek which she returned, mussing his hair for good measure. 

Rubbing her eyes, she noted the brown paper grocery bag held in the crook of Killian’s arm. “More onions?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep, before letting out a jaw-cracking yawn.

Killian’s eyes had drifted to the hem of her camisole where it had ridden up as she slept, and it took him a second to register her question. “Ah, sadly no, Swan. I come bearing libations.” 

He sat the bag down on the coffee table and pulled out a six pack of her favorite beer and a two-liter bottle of Henry’s favorite soda. Emma’s eyes brightened appreciatively. 

“No candlelit sumptuous dinner for two tonight, per your requirements. Instead we have-” The ringing doorbell interrupted his train of thought. “That should either be dinner or our other companion for the evening.”

He gave her a wink and moved to pick up the beverages. “I’ll just go put these in the refrigerator. Henry, lad, would you answer the door?”

“Sure thing.” Henry nodded and trotted off in that direction.

Emma glanced down to the floor to locate her discarded sweater and pulled it over her head, hearing a muffled “Hi mom,” from Henry just as the door opened. Behind it stood Regina, dressed to kill in a fitted royal blue sheath dress that fell to her mid-thigh, flanked on either side by a similarly dapper Robin on her left and a Superman pajama-clad Roland on her right. 

Roland’s eyes landed on Henry and his smile broke out in full force, dimples deepening to a level of adorableness that should be outlawed. Henry dropped into a crouch and opened his arms to the young boy. Roland ran to him immediately and Henry scooped him up in a big bear hug before settling him on his hip. 

With his free hand, Henry gestured to the interior of the house. “Do you two want to come in for a minute, or are you just dropping off this guy?” On the last two words he reached over to rustle Roland’s curly dark hair.

Emma rose from the couch and walked over to stand next to Henry, running a hand through her hair in an attempt to smooth the sleep-matted mess. “I take it we’re babysitting this evening?”

Regina gave her an appraising glare - at this point Emma just assumed she did it out of habit more than anything else, but it still served to make Emma acutely aware of her state of dishevelment as compared to Regina’s cool elegance. 

“Yes, and actually I should thank you,” Regina answered, visibly softening. “It’s nearly impossible to find a real babysitter on Valentine’s Day. I was afraid we were going to have to cancel our reservations.”

“Which, I might add, love,” Robin chimed in, “we are very close to being late for. Lovely to see you again, Emma. Where’s that prat of a boyfriend of yours?”

“Oi!” Killian called, returning from the kitchen. “And what’s this ponce doing in my house then? Better hide the good silver, Swan.” 

When they reached each other, Killian and Robin exchanged a manly back-slapping hug with heavily accented grumbling that sounded vaguely like “tosser” and “wanker.”

When they parted, Robin stepped over to lift Roland from Henry’s arms, giving his son one last kiss and hug. “You be a good lad for Auntie Em and Uncle K, alright? And do try to eat something that isn’t candy.” 

Roland nodded enthusiastically, running back to Henry’s side as soon as Robin set him down.

The door had barely closed behind Regina and Robin, when the bell rang again to reveal a scrawny, bespectacled pizza delivery boy. Soon, the four of them were stuffing their faces while Roland’s cartoon of choice played in the background. Once their stomachs were full to bursting, Henry pulled out a battered old edition of Candy Land to Roland’s further delight, and they set about playing several soda-fueled rounds. 

Emma couldn’t help but get caught up in the domesticity of it all. Simply hanging out with her two favorite guys in the world, plus a little one who was rapidly growing on her ( _ God, those dimples! Who could resist? _ ), it just felt… right. Like home. Like family. Like love.  All the things she didn’t have for the better part of her life. All the things that Valentine’s Day used to rub right in her face. But now…

Roland’s little head was just beginning to loll back against Emma’s shoulder as he lay sprawled across her lap on the couch, when the doorbell rang at 8:00pm signaling Robin and Regina’s return. Emma scooped him up in her arms and carried him carefully to the front door, passing him wordlessly into Regina’s arms so as not to wake him. The women exchanged a nod and a warm smile, and Regina took her leave, toting Roland back to the car where Robin waited in the driver’s seat. Emma wondered idly when Robin had learned to drive.

She watched them from the doorway, shaking her head at the image of Regina maternally buckling Roland’s tiny sleeping form into a car seat. She knew in the abstract that the woman had done the same with Henry, but seeing it in person was another thing entirely. As they pulled away from the curb, she switched off the porch light and closed the door.

“So,” Emma rubbed her hands together, turning her full attention on her boys. “What do we do now?”

“ _ Scrabble _ ,” they answered in unison, clinking their glasses together in a toast once they’d realized what they’d done. 

Emma rolled her eyes. “With the capital-A Author and a human thesaurus? Hell, no. I’m not falling for that again.” She stepped over Henry where he was seated on the floor, legs tucked under the coffee table, and settled herself down next to Killian who immediately placed his arm around her shoulder. 

“What’s the matter, mom? Afraid of a challenge?” Henry asked with a mischievously raised eyebrow. 

Damn, the longer that kid hung out with Killian, the more you’d think they were blood-related. Feeling a bit petulant and childish, she stuck her tongue out at her own son. “Still no dice, kid. Not after the way the two of you mopped the floor with me last time. I have some sense of pride and self-preservation. How about…” Emma tapped the dimple in her chin in thought. “Star Wars?”

“Done,” Henry agreed. “I’ll pop in the disc, if you go make the popcorn.”

“And I’ll assist the Lady Swan in the kitchen,” Killian added, standing when Emma did. “Care for another beverage, lad?”

“Can I have a beer?” Henry asked hopefully. 

‘What!?!” Emma squeaked, eyes widening in horror. “You most certainly can  _ not _ .”

“I can literally go to the Underworld and back, but I can’t even have a beer?” he argued.

Killian put his hand on Henry’s shoulder, his mouth pressed into a tight line to keep from laughing at Emma’s spluttering and scandalized expression. “Lad, I think you better tell your mother you were only joking before she sends you back there herself.”

“Sorry, mom. I was just kidding,” Henry said, slightly abashed.

“Yeah, well,” Emma grumbled. “Popcorn. I’m going to make popcorn.”

* * *

Halfway through  _ The Empire Strikes Back _ , Henry started snoring lightly. Emma nudged him with her sock covered toes. “Hey, kid. Bedtime.”

Henry grunted something incoherent, and stumbled up the stairs to bed, leaving Emma and Killian completely alone for the first time since breakfast. Killian yawned deeply and stretched, jostling Emma where she lay against his chest, but pulling her more tightly to him as he finished. She closed her eyes at the quiet comfort of the moment and slipped her hand under the hem of his shirt to trace her fingers against the bare skin of his stomach.

“So how’d I do, love?” he asked sleepily.

Emma’s eyes popped open. “Gotcha!” she exclaimed, looking up at him gleefully through her eyelashes.

“Did you now?  Because the clock on the magic DVR contraption over there says that it’s now 12:01am. Valentine’s Day is over, and I can call you my love all I want to again.”

Emma cut her eyes over to the clock, and sure enough, he was right. She huffed in capitulation.

“So, I repeat,  _ love _ , how did I do?”

Emma thought back over the day. Killian had, in fact, managed to skip every clichéd romantic stereotype that she’d asked him to avoid and yet somehow, it had all seemed so much more meaningful and yes,  _ romantic _ than she could’ve ever imagined a Valentine’s Day being. 

She sat up straighter so she could look in his eyes. “You win.”

His brow furrowed and he squirmed to sit up straighter as well, or as best he could with the way the two of them were entangled under a blanket. “It wasn’t about winning, Swan -” he began, but Emma cut him off with a finger to his lips.

“No. I mean…” She shook her head. “Look, I’m not going to sit here and rehash my little lost girl issues. We’re both painfully aware of those. But I think that was why I always hated Valentine’s Day. It was this huge, candy-coated, hot pink, heart-shaped, glaring reminder of everything I didn’t have. But I don’t need those things. I need waking up beside you. I need someone who reminds me to give myself a break, who will put me first. I need pizza and beer and old movies in our living room in our house. I need the man I love and my son sharing inside jokes and kicking my ass at board games.” 

She laughed, reaching up to card her fingers through his hair, and he turned his head pressing his lips softly to her palm. “A long time ago, you said you’d win my heart, and that it would be because I wanted you. Well, Killian Jones, I want you, I need you and I love you. So, you win.”

“ _ Emma _ ,” he whispered, and pulled her into a searing kiss, rolling their bodies so that she was on top of him, chest-to-chest. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and his hand fisted in the fabric of her camisole, his hook at the small of her back pressing her ever closer to him. 

Just like every time they kissed, Emma felt it in every part of her. How could a kiss both soothe and ignite her like this? Be both comforting and passionate, reverent and lust-riddled and everything all at the same time? She didn’t know, but she hoped it never stopped. 

When they broke for air, Emma unwrapped her arms just enough to allow herself to pull back and look him in the eye, licking her lips as she smiled down at him. He raised his head and placed a quick kiss to the tip of her nose, and she laughed lightly. She rolled back to her side, nestling into the crook of his arm and burying her nose in his neck, breathing in the scent of clean laundry and Killian. “I do think you cheated, though,” she mumbled against his chest.

“Mm? How’s that, love?”

“The whole bet was that you couldn’t say ‘love’ or tell me you loved me, and you effectively spent the entire day doing exactly that - just without saying the L-word.”

Killian chuckled. “I am a man who prefers to  _ show _ rather than  _ tell _ , darling. As a matter of fact, there are a few more things I’d like to show you, if you’re up for it.”

Emma patted her hand against his chest. “Race you up the stairs?”

She sat up enough to make out the wicked gleam in his eye. “You’re on, love.”

Hours later, after a thoroughly and highly satisfying demonstration of his amorous fervor (his phrasing - she really was going to have get a word-of-the-day calendar to keep up with this household), Emma lay boneless in Killian's arms, listening as his breathing evened out. She thought about their wager, and words like “extravagant,” “saccharine,” and “public” drifted into her mind, but she quickly flicked them aside. For all his swagger and bluster, if he'd proven anything today, it was that Killian Jones knew exactly how to make her feel loved. She could face future Valentine’s Days without any trepidation, and maybe - just maybe - a hint of excitement. Not that she'd ever admit it to her meddling mother. 

She laughed quietly to herself as the first blush of dawn peeked through the bedroom window. Yeah, maybe she'd lost the bet, but somehow she still felt like she'd won. 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration for the usage of smut words in non-smut context came from a Tumblr post by wingedlioness. Special thanks to amagicalship and captainswannl29 for super beta-ing!


End file.
